The Buchanans
by Mikkistix
Summary: All Victoria wants is to make it to her next meal. But what happens when she meets a mysterious man in the park, who is threatening her brother? I could tell you what happens now, but reading the story would be a lot more helpful. Hope you like it!
1. That was far, far too normal

That Was Far, Far Too Normal

I was always amazed at how invisible a person in plain sight can be. One could sit on a park bench, arrange their features to look pleasantly blissful, tired, slightly worried, or any of the other usual emotions a young woman should be experiencing, and completely dissolve. Thinking _I'm a bench… I'm a bench… Keep on walking -- that's right, I'm just part of the bench…_ helps too. I sometimes liked to add a bit of variety, to spice up the scene. Drawing was my favourite, but feeding the birds, reading a book, or even knitting were more entertaining than just sitting there, waiting for an easy victim to come along.

Now, I know you just jumped at the word _victim_. Be assured, it's just another term I liked to use to make the fine art of pick pocketing an adventure. It makes me sound dangerous, don't you think? Sort of a high flyer? But all I was, then, was a starving teenager with a knack for slipperiness. And not to mention with a mentor who just happened to be every nobleman in Europe's biggest unsolved mystery.

I shifted my skirts, deliberately making it look like an unconscious thing as I applied a few more strokes to the sketch of the street I was drawing. It was only an alibi, but I took a certain pride in my sketches. They all had to be just so. Everything in proportion – faces and heads and bodies and benches and street signs and horses and stores… all exact miniatures of the real models. I smiled down at my book. Perfect! Except… that _bakery_ sign looked extraordinarily like it said _brewery_ in my version. Just as I finished the erasing frenzy a carriage pulled up in front of me, blocking my view of the Bakery/Distillery that needed adjusting. Shoot. I grimaced as it's occupants took their time getting out of the buggy, talking and laughing gaily as the men made a show of being gentlemanly and helped the ever-giggling girls away. I watched in disgust as they carried on with their carefree lives. There was one member of the party, however, that wiped my scowl away.

He was of average height, average build, and of a perfectly average demeanour. This effect was heightened by his dull brown hair – tied back neatly with a navy cord – and fading black jacket. He didn't draw attention to himself, like the others, but rather effectively made himself a pleasant accompaniment, the type of background music that one doesn't notice until someone, for lack of a better conversation topic, brings it up.

He was too average.

Too invisible.

Too much like _me_.

I had a class 5 internal freak-out. Not that it would show, of course, Gray had trained me better than that. I scrambled around in my head, trying to imagine what Gray would do. _Get out of there!_ _You don't know what kind of outlaw he is! _He would murmur to me, as if I were the daughter I would be pretending to be, being sent to do some errand or other. He wouldn't give himself away in his urgency, but become a shadow. He didn't trust other 'outlaws'. Kind of cowardly, in my opinion, but his strategy worked. He'd never been caught during his entire career. Gray was constantly reminding us that bounty hunters were outlaws, too.

I stood up, not slowly, but not alarmingly fast either, and started down the avenue. I would take refuge in the general store until Mr. Average was gone for good. He was probably just passing through; to steal a few horses… it was a common enough thing. I held on to that thought, fighting the urge to glance back. I concentrated on crossing the road. _Horse thief?_ This new voice took me by surprise. _I've never seen such a subtle animal stealer. They tend to just grab and go, without thinking about it. _Huh. Who knew my brother would be the one dealing this advice. Advice about _thinking._ Les wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, in my opinion. I automatically scanned the area for his fiery mop.

Les!

What was he doing?

_Idiot!_ Gray agreed in my head. _Can't he see…? Victoria, get him out of there!_

Les had come back to my bench, which had been taken over by the carriage troupe. He was looking quite comfortable there – particularly enjoying the attentions of one of the gigglers. He was far too popular among that crowd for it to be good. Normally I would have let him have his fun, in hopes he'd retrieve something shiny in the process, but not today. Today, Mr. Average was taking _far_ too much of a liking to him.

I turned, and some instinct had me running towards my brother. I couldn't help it; my feet just decided to rush me towards the dangerous, perfectly non-dangerous group.

"Les!" I half screamed, "I've been looking _all over_ for you!"

_So much for subtleness,_ the man in my head grumbled.

_You can shut it Gray, you're getting annoying,_ I mentally snapped.

"Victoria?" He sounded as surprised as the situation called for, with a skilful undercurrent of chagrin, but I knew him better. The word reeked of _you crazy female, what are you doing?_ I glared at him in real reproach, but that fit our scenario too.

"Don't you act all _innocent_, Lester Buchanan! If you had the slightest idea of what I've been through for your worthless hide –"

"But – "

"—the _lies_ I've been telling –"

"Ya well—"

"—go home _now_ you worthless white trash before I –"

"Now, now, calm down miss, don't hurt yourself. Let the man explain." Mr. Average interrupted as I raised my hand, ready to slap Les. I knew I was probably overdoing it, and being the opposite of invisible, but I really needed to get my point across. Also, I really wanted to hit him. He'd been driving me driving me over the edge since the day he was born.

Mr. Average grabbed my still raised hand, grinning slightly. He eased it down, till it was completely lowered, then took my other hand in his as well. The action was almost… romantic? That didn't make sense, at all, it was completely irrelevant to the situation, and I hated myself for even thinking it, but that was the only explanation I had for the way he moved. _Probably just doesn't want to get smacked, _Gray noted. I took the opportunity to swipe the man's cufflinks.

"Hitting anybody would do far more harm than good, don't you think Victoria?"

"Let go of me." I said flatly, unnerved by his touch. And the way he looked at me… I fought the impulse to shiver.

"Of course." He… cooed? Bringing my hand up to his face, and…

For once I was completely at a loss as to what to do. He couldn't have just _kissed_ my palm! Where did that come from? I was a stranger on a near-murderous rampage for crying out loud!

I looked to Les for some insight, but he seemed even more confused than I was. His eyes were moving so rapidly between our hands, and our faces, and it gave me the strangest urge to laugh. Which one of the girls witnessing the scene acted upon.

It was contagious. Her soprano tinkle was joined by a bass, closely followed by Mr. Maybe-Not-As-Average-As-I-Once-thought's roughened chuckle, and an explosion of whoops from somewhere behind me. He still wouldn't let me go.

"I knew you were slick, James, but _man_ that was somethin'! Stopped her dead in her tracks, you did!"

"Aw, would you look at her face! Poor doll!"

"Nice, Victoria, nice." Les grinned.

"Your face was just as priceless, _Lester" _Soprano tinkled.

I paid them little attention, because the man standing in front of me counted far more than they. Mr. Ave… _James_ still hadn't let go. The pressure of his fingers was starting to get uncomfortable, and there was something… strange about his face. I watched as some emotion skittered across his features when they laughed.

I took my hands back with a jerk. He smiled, amused by my discomfort, and bowed to me. I usually would have observed 'bowed mockingly to me' but… his eyes. They were dead serious. And, wow, a burning, deep-earth tone.

"Come." I shot at Les, turning to him so I would not be lost in the brilliancy of that mystery-man's eyes. "Mother will be _delighted_ to hear your story _this _time."

Les's eyes darkened as he dropped his head, dispatched a parting grin for Soprano, and backed away from the group. He knew what I meant by 'mother'.

I curtsied and turned away as well. What a disaster. We'd have to leave town sooner than I had planned, and that meant pawning our loot somewhere else. Pawning elsewhere meant that we'd go supperless again tonight. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure we weren't being followed.

"Sorry." Les muttered as we walked, "Couldn't help myself."

He didn't sound an ounce repentant. Smug would be a better word. I glowered at his freckles, unwilling to give him the honour of looking him in the eye. (Also, he was half a head taller than me, so I couldn't help but look up his nose, could I?) Les was clueless. Absolutely clueless. For a moment, I found myself wishing I could be that ignorant again. Be so, so… safe… in my own head, unafraid of the constant danger the world was pelting us with, undaunted by empty stomachs and cold nights and the running, running, running. I just wanted… bliss, like he had. To do what I wanted because I wanted it. Maybe even spontaneous! _And to possibly_, Gray interrupted, _possibly keep your stupid head in the moment, girl. Such a state only exists if your head is full of sawdust. James is still behind you. Keep sharp. _

That's what he would say. Ungh. But that is also what I had just said to myself.


	2. Night

(k)Night

That night, we slept under the stars. Les was little deterred by that fact, buoyed by his successful endeavours during the day. "Darling Charlotte LaLiberty", or Soprano as I still thought of her, had apparently been a thief's dream. Easily distracted, amazingly unobservant, and richer than Ebenezer Scrooge. We didn't have any real money from his finds at the moment, but it still made Les ecstatic to hold real gold rings in his hands.

Also, she rather liked him.

I was happy for him, for us, for the promise of money in the near future, but I still couldn't shake an impending feeling of doom revolving around the man they call James.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Les exclaimed when I told him, for the fifth time, why I wasn't doing a victory dance, "He seemed perfectly normal to me."

"Of course you don't have a clue! Les, when have you ever noticed such things? And it's the 'perfectly normal' bit I'm worried about."

"If he blended far too nicely, as you say, why was he the one who stepped into the spotlight to face an enraged woman, which I didn't take any of the company for the sort that would – you are, I think, the scariest thing alive – _grab your arm,_ kiss your bloody hand and all that carbuncle? That's the very opposite of subtle." I was reminded fiercely of earlier, when Les's voice in my head told me James was _too subtle._

I laughed.

"I think the pressure's getting to you." He grumbled.

"I don't think you're pressured enough." I countered.

"Listen to me. There was absolutely nothing amiss!"

"That's what he wants us to think!" I started laughing again through my sentiments. How perfect his ploy was. What it was, exactly, I wasn't sure, but it was perfect none the less.

"Just leave it. We'll trade our loot off and move on tomorrow anyhow." He was mumbling again.

NO! I wanted to yell, but forced my voice to normal volume so we wouldn't get caught. "No. We are _not_ going back there for anything. That's where he is. That's what he expects." Some sixth sense was screaming the truth of it to me. "You're playing right into his hands."

Les opened his mouth to retort, but stopped with his jaw slacked. He could see the unveiled terror in my eyes. "His hands…" he whispered haltingly. Slowly, his features changed. Blue eyes widened. Eyebrows rose. I thought I even saw his ears slide backwards. Then, quick as wildfire, all things contorted into a mask of sheer hatred.

"Les…" I backed up, concerned for his health. And mine.

"What aren't you telling me? What did he do to you?" he exploded.

That was the last thing I expected. "Uh… what?" I asked, confused.

"You'd seen him before I got there. You're scareder than I've ever seen you. Why would you be scared of someone who just acted 'perfectly normal?' He did something to you. Tell. Me. What. He. Did."

"As honoured I am at your indignation, brother, he did nothing to me but scare the devil out of my bones when I saw him looking at you. We only spoke when he so rudely stopped my hand from meeting your face. That is all. I just get this feeling like he's up to something, and something nasty, something aimed at us."

"You're lying." He growled, not convinced.

"Am not." I retorted.

"Well you're not telling the whole truth."

"Tell me, oh omniscient one, why I would lie." I said, smooth as a cucumber.

"You're embarrassed. You think it'd make you look weak." He shot.

"Well Lester, I'm impressed. You've managed to completely misinterpret me once again."

"I'm more observant than you give me credit for." He griped, almost inaudibly.

"I'll believe that when you're right one day. Now shut up and promise me you won't go running into town tomorrow, whether you believe me or not." I knew him. He wouldn't just let this mad idea alone until he was absolutely positive of the truth.

"Sure. I'll stay with you." He promised, looking uncharacteristically protective. "I'll be right here when you need me."

"I know." I smiled at his contemplation of the valiant-knight role as he readied our bedroll. _Fourteen, and already sworn into a service I'll have to die for,_ his expression radiated. Imagining killing James, no doubt. Hmm, my very own knight. "I know." I repeated as I laid down beside him.

His arm suddenly flung around me, making it hard to breathe. And just below the night's crickets, I heard the soft sigh of My Les.


	3. The Stench

Stench

_Something stinks…_

_Really stinks…_

_Why, pray tell… does it stink… this early in the morning? The sun… hasn't even… risen yet… stink should wait till at least… ungh… rot… smoke… smoking rot… itsnotwoodisit? Whats'at? Wha-what's burning? Huh? Something touched me! It's HOT! _

"GAAAAAH!"

It took me a second to realize that the scream belonged to me. I was on my feet and tensed to run, with a knife in my hand. I couldn't remember how I came to be in the position. I didn't even know where I got the knife from. That all shouldn't have mattered, but it bugged me- I didn't like not knowing… It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the scene before me.

The copse of trees we'd been camped in was full of people, dressed in startlingly bright clothing. Their coats were cut strangely, so they swirled around their thin frames like living things, distracting and dazzling me. The people themselves had mysterious dark complexions, a brown unlike any tan I'd ever seen before, and thick, black hair that cascaded down their backs. Even the men. Many were laughing and talking quietly, in some language I could not understand. Foreign, definitely, but not particularly dangerous folk. I could see nothing but friendliness in their eyes. Tentatively, I lowered my knife. Several of the women close to me had frozen at my sudden awakening, and were eyeing it skittishly.

The mutt, that had apparently licked me, grinned. I couldn't bring myself to smile back. Something was wrong here, I could feel it.

"Hello, lady. Sleep well, yes?"

I spun at the sound of my name, gripping the knife hilt again.

One of the gypsies grinned innocently from the cook fire, waving a long, graceful hand in my direction. He was… was… …. Was. Wow. If ever I'd harboured a shade of doubt about angels, it was gone completely. I couldn't even _comprehend_ them not existing now. He was perfect. Absolutely….

I tried to remember how to breathe.

He laughed at the blank look on my face. "They call me Laurent. Sorry for taking over your campsite, I know it was rude. Would you like us to leave?" He looked at me with a concerned expression.

"Yes, I-I mean no-yes-stay. Stay. Ya. Stay." Smooth, Victoria, smooth.

"Thank you." He didn't seem to mind my extraordinary smoothness, at least.

"May I ask something bold?"

"Of course! We are the intruders here; you may treat us as you wish."

Wow, his voice was something. "Um, why are you here?"

"Again, how rude of me! This all must be very strange."

"Strange is a matter of opinion." I couldn't help but think of that James, and how perfectly normal-strange he was, and how strange Laurent would think I was if I had told him about me thinking normality strange…

"We were travelling by moonlight-" He stopped abruptly and looked to see my reaction.

I raised my eyebrows. They didn't seem stupid altogether, but travelling at night sure was. Nothing was more suspicious than someone who thinks and _acts_ guilty, like hiding under the cloak of night. _That's my girl,_ Gray cut in. I smiled mentally. Not, as in, I smiled like I had mental issues, but, like, you know, in – my – head? Anyways, Laurent could stand to learn a thing or two.

"The stars were gorgeous." He shot quickly, "and we came upon your camp. Your brothers flagged us down, and told us that we could help each other. We needed a nice place to rest for the day and directions to Longbourne, and you needed protecting while they went to town. So here we are." Laurent looked at me hopefully, as if pleading for me to let them stay.

Personally, I couldn't care less at the moment. I was having a class 7 internal freak out.

"My _brothers?!?"_

"Yes?"

"Did they give names? What did they look like? Which way did they go?"

"There was a youth with hair like yours, oh! Excuse me ma'am, that was rude. It wasn't near as feminine as yours-"

"And the other???" I screeched.

"Average man, brown hair, said he was called James. Did most of the talking. Is there a problem? Hey, are you alright? Calm down!"

I had tried to jump over the fire and onto a mule in one leap.

Needless to say, it didn't work. Lucky Laurent was fast enough to catch me before it all went up in smoke. Not that I would feel it, of course, I would be to preoccupied with my brother… dragged off to some secret place to be slaughtered… I fought the tears – and Laurent.

"What's wrong? Talk!"

I was magically sitting on a handcart.

"I only have one brother! He's got him, he's got Les! Let me go!"

"I see. That is a problem." His features changed, they were… dangerous looking.

"Let. Me. Go."

"You see, miss Victoria-" Never once had I given him my name. I stared up in horror, "That _is_ a problem. Because, of course, I have promised to protect you-"

"I don't need protecting! Just let me go! He'll kill him!" Why wasn't he listening?

"Too bad."

Those were the last words I heard before the blackness came. But not before I happened to glimpse, across the valley, the silhouettes of my brother and my enemy.

For the last time.


End file.
